Sunlit Days
by Musafreen
Summary: An Apollo/OC romance. Set before the haiku phase, just so I won't have to write one.
1. Geriatrophile

**Authors' Note:**Originally, this was supposed to be a multi-chapter fic. Seeing my frequency at updating The Montauk Affair, I figured it might be better as a oneshot. However, once I got along with OC development, it showed all signs of being a humongously long oneshot, which is a problem because my exams are due in two days and I won't get closure until I actually finish the thing. Considering my ineptitude at engineering mechanics (or theory of structures, as the case may be) I decided to try out for a little wisdom, and make this a two/three shot.

Well, that would be the story of the story. I might have to have a beta in this, because my tenses may be messed up. I'm willing to entertain offers, but please be sure you can help.

Warnings: This happens to be a slightly unconventional Apollo/OC romance, possibly damaging to the very delicate soul. People who feel squeamish are invited to yell at me. And also, I've gone (again, slightly) against original mythology in one of the events, even if it is not entirely evident at this point of the story. Think of it as literary licence.

* * *

**Part One**

_**Geriatrophile**_

* * *

The first time she sees him, she's recovering from a particularly bad day at work.

She's sitting near the kitchen table, her hair in disarray and her eyes harried, when her daughter enters through the back door. Gwen is laughing and explaining something to a blond kid about her age, maybe a couple of years older. She's struck by what a good-looking couple they make, her with her long brown hair and confident step, him with his dazzling smile and undeniably handsome face.

She sighs when her daughters' black bag falls into the table with a crash.

"Gwen."

"Sorry mom," She shrugs, her eyes bright with excitement. "Apollo, this is my mother, the woman crazy enough to have a ukulele collection. Mom, this is Apollo. He wants to see your ukulele collection, for some unfathomable reason."

It all started with the darn ukeleles.

She blinks and stares at the kid. He's still smiling as he nods at her, his eyes reminding her of a cloudless summer sky. Her daughter takes the moment to look at him admiringly, making an 'isn't he cute?' face at her behind his back. She is inclined to agree, but privately decides to have a long talk with the kid, threatening him with as many forms of horrendous torture she can think of if he as much as shows a sign of hurting her little girl.

"Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Fletcher." He says.

"Miss," She corrects bluntly. "I'm not married."

She sees Gwens' face fall and immediately feels guilty about taking her frustration out on her new friend.

"The ukeleles are upstairs in the attic," She waves in the direction of the stairs. "I'm sorry, Gwen. It was just a bad day at work. You two have fun." She smiles at them both, trying to play the part of the benevolent parent.

He shoots her another thousand-watt grin before going to the stairs, but her daughter takes the time to squeeze her hand tenderly and plant a soft kiss on her forehead before following. She is gratified by this because this reminds her that no matter what happens, she'll have Gwen, and Gwen will have her.

* * *

"Isn't he _cute?"_ Gwen asks later as she helps her set the table for dinner.

She hums noncommittally as she brings in the pasta, trying to downplay her daughters' excitement.

"Mom!"

"Yes, he is cute," she admits grudgingly. "But you, young lady, have your SATs to think about. That kid had better take a backseat in your priorities."

Gwen ignores her like she always does when the subject of her education comes up (not that she's all that worried, Gwen was a bright girl) and proceeds on a long monologue about the kid.

"I met him last weekend at the club; he plays guitar. Not _really_well, just okay… but all of us -the girls- are happy enough watching him," Gwen dumped cutlery on the plates. "He said he liked music, all kinds of it. So I joked to him about your ukeleles. Believe me, I was surprised when he said he wanted to see them."

"I'm happy they were useful for something," She says. "Straighten those spoons, please."

"He knows a lot about ukeleles," Gwen says once she's stuffed a spoonful of pasta into her mouth. "He was telling me how they were made; almost like he was there when it happened. So if we ever get married, you and he will have at least one thing to talk about."

She paused at this, despite how she knew her daughter was joking.

"You are not even going to think about marrying until you get a decent job. Men, are jerks. I learnt that lesson the hard way."

"Geez, mom."

"I'm exercising parental authority here. No arguments."

Gwen makes a choking sound she suspects is a snort. She reflects there might be something in that. Caroline Fletcher had been guilty of exercising parental authority maybe ten times in her existence.

* * *

He shows up again next week, to look at the ukeleles.

Caroline notices how his eyes linger on her daughters' body when she's not watching him, and her nose itches with discomfort. She doesn't want to ruin Gwens' crush for her, but something about the kid unnerves her. Maybe that's why she silently follows them into the attic, and eavesdrops at a crack near the door.

"Gwen, sweetheart, I like hanging out with you, but it scares me how your mom looks at me like I'm about to rape you." She hears him say. Gwen laughs at the statement.

"Mom's a little overprotective. She had me when she was seventeen; obviously I wasn't planned. She's looked after me all these years and…well, we're really close. She gets jealous," the affection in Gwens' tone pleases her. "No one is good enough for me. And well… she's had a few bad experiences with guys. More than a few, really. She's pretty much given up on your sex."

"That sounds like my sister," he laughs. His laugh is like his voice, attractive in a sunny sort of way. "Except for the experience part. She gave up on us at birth."

"Really?"

"We're twins. She says that after sharing a dark, enclosed space with me for months, it's a miracle she doesn't just shoot every guy she comes across."

Caroline grins in time with her daughters' laugh. It only fades when a few seconds later, he looks in her direction. The grin is still on his face and there was absolutely no way he could have spotted her behind the wall, but there is something in his eyes, like he knows something she doesn't, quite possibly something about herself, that makes her shiver.

She decides she's overreacting, and goes down to make herself some coffee.

* * *

They come down later, laughing and talking. She tries to fade into the background while still trying to keep an eagle eye on them, definitely a hard job.

He notices her guitar leaning against the stairs, where she's kept it after a little strumming to soothe her nerves.

"You play guitar?" He asks Gwen.

"No, that'd be mom," Gwen tells him. "She's the music buff of the family."

"You play the guitar, Ms. Fletcher?" He asks her. She's stuck by the sheer potency of that smile when it's directed completely at her. No wonder Gwen was delirious with joy.

"A little." She says, willing herself to judge him. She finds it impossible; she has too little information.

"That's great!"

"Thank you." She wishes she could tell him to not hurt her daughter instead. Later, she does, when Gwen isn't paying attention.

"I'll do my best, Ms. Fletcher." He says, and there is no doubting the sincerity in his voice.

* * *

"Gwen?" Caroline is concerned when her daughter enters the house with a melancholy expression. "Gwenny, are you all right?"

Gwen seats herself at the kitchen table, her head held in her hand, waving her mothers' concern away. Caroline waits patiently for a little more than half an hour, cleaning the kitchen, before she decides to speak.

"It's nothing, mom. It's really silly," Gwen sighs. "What was I thinking?"

"Apollo?" Caroline hazards a guess, her heart sinking.

Gwen nods miserably.

"What did he do to you?" Caroline is surprised by the fierceness of her voice. Even Gwen jerks up at that.

"Nothing! Nothing like that! He's just, well…a flirt," Gwen explained. "It's built into his system or something. He's nice and all, but he's hardly permanent." (she rolls her eyes) "I'll bet he's had dozens of girlfriends."

"Oh, honey-"

"My bad, and I'm dealing with it," Gwen waved her away. "I was an idiot, that's all. And he's still a good friend; at least I get free rides to school."

"Gwenny-"

"No mushy stuff," Gwen ordered her. "And don't take your anger out on him, I think he'll still come here for the ukeleles."

Caroline unconsciously stabbed the table with a fork, earning her a raised eyebrow from Gwen. She sighed and said she'd do her best.

* * *

"Smooth," She tells him when she opens her door to him two days later. "If that was your best, I'd hate to see your worst."

He had the decency to look (somewhat) ashamed.

"Can I see the ukeleles?" He ventured.

"Only because Gwen said so." Caroline let him know. "Come on in."

"She's a sweet kid." He said, smiling.

"Maybe you could have kept that in mind before you started hitting on every single girl in that food court," Caroline snapped. "Haven't you learnt tact yet?"

"I was trying to let her down gently," he said meekly. "I wasn't really interested in Gwen. She's not my type."

Caroline bristled at that.

"There's nothing wrong with my daughter."

"Of course there isn't," Apollo agreed. "She's pretty, smart, sweet, witty…she's brilliant."

"Then why?" Caroline asked.

"Because you asked me to not hurt her," he said simply. "I don't have permanent romances, and I didn't like her enough to be selfish about it."

She's surprised by his bluntness, and halfheartedly concludes he might be okay after all. Just possibly, and onlyin a roundabout way, but still.

* * *

The next weekend, he shows up and offers to drive Gwen to the mall. Caroline is on her third cup of coffee that morning, and isn't really paying attention to what they're saying till Gwen tugs at her and tells her to get dressed. Apparently, they'd decided she was going to come to the mall with them. Pretend-chaperoning was possibly the last thing she wanted to do on a weekend, but she melts at the look of desperation Gwen shoots her. Apollo looks anxious too, and she's struck by a sudden bout of fondness for the kid.

She nods reluctantly. The thousand megawatt smile that appears on his face when she does scares her slightly.

He drives them to the mall in his car, a red convertible most roadside bystanders appear to be drooling over. She concentrates on trying to not get carsickness in addition to her migrane, noting that Gwen looked exceptionally thoughtful.

When they reach the mall, she tags along with Gwen while Apollo disappears. They spend a couple of hours window shopping; at least, Gwen does while she clutches at her head and tries not to complain. They finally make it to the food court, where she collapses on a chair and presses her head to the table.

"What happened?" Apollos' voice, concerned. She hears him putting down something.

"She gets migraines sometimes." Gwens' voice, sounding worried. "I shouldn't have forced her to come."

"Not too loud." Caroline mumbles, closing her eyes.

"Sorry." Gwen whispers guiltily.

"Let me see," he says.

She's unprepared to have her head raised from the table, even more unprepared to see him sitting close to her, cradling her head in his hands. This close, she can see how fine his blond hair is, and how his summer-blue eyes are crinkled with worry. She's aware that her mouth is slightly open and that she's staring, but it was a dim sort of awareness, more useless fact than actual knowledge.

He brushes his hand across her forehead (frowning slightly - she's surprised, she hadn't seen anything like that on his face since she first met him), opening a sudden void in her stomach. Abruptly, he lets go of her.

Silence reigns for a few seconds. Much to her surprise, Gwen isn't the person to break it.

"Are you all right?" He asks.

"Umm…yes. Thank you," she rubs her head vaguely. "I feel much better."

That was the last time in her life she ever got a migraine.

* * *

Gwen is unusually quiet that night. Caroline is glad, because she doesn't feel much like talking either. They order takeout and curl up in front of the TV, and she leaves for bed before she's halfway through the movie.

Caroline sighs and follows her upstairs. Her room is open, and she's staring mutinously at the wall.

"Gwen?"

Gwen pretends not to hear her.

"Honey, do you want me to ban him from the house?"

Gwen takes time off to glare at her, then goes back to the wall.

"If he's annoying you, then-"

"It's not him," Gwen snaps. "It's you."

"What did I do?" This was the early teens all over again.

"Nothing!" Gwen throws her hand up. "Nothing at all. You barely talked to him, and he's besotted with you! He spent all of that day flirting with the waitresses and today he was just watching you. Like, I don't know, like you were some sort of goddess or something! I've been pushed over by a guy in favor of my mother. Excuse me if I'm a little pissed off!"

And she turned around and refused to talk to Caroline, which was perhaps for the best. Caroline was sure she was too stunned to form a coherent sentence.

* * *

"You're not here for the ukeleles, are you?" Caroline asked him when he showed up the next day.

"How's your migraine?" He asked.

"Not here yet, but it will soon be, at this rate." Caroline stood in front of the door, blocking his entrance. "Answer my question."

"Not entirely." He confessed.

"And you've already made it clear you're not here because of Gwen," Caroline said. "So what, exactly, is your motive?"

He looked at her in a way which made it all crystal-clear. She was stunned into silence again.

"You are unbelievable," She said finally. "I am old enough to be your freaking mother. There is no way this is going to work."

He smiled again. But for once, it wasn't carefree or embarrassed. It was knowing, and a little sad.

"Oh, it will." He said. "I know."

She's unnerved again, this time by the certainty in his voice, and she refuses to let him in again. He shrugs at her, still smiling, and walks away with his hands in his jeans pockets.

Somehow, she doubted that'd be the last she'd ever see of him.

* * *

Of course it wasn't. And it restarted again with Gwen.

They were sitting at the table, having breakfast. They'd apologized, and they'd shared hugs, and things were pretty much back to normal, at least until she vrought the subject up.

"So…" she says, her mouth half full with morning toast. "I met Apollo yesterday."

Caroline pauses in pouring out coffee, dreading whatever was going to come next. How could one single guy cause so damn much trouble in so little time? Was this even possible?

"It's all over, Gwen. Forget him," she says. "It's just an embarrassing chapter in both our lives."

"He said you wouldn't let him in."

"Like I said, _forget_ him."

"Mom, I think you should date him."

Caroline puts down the percolator, staring at her daughter in disbelief.

"I mean, come on," Gwen waves a fork in the air for emphasis. "The guy's hot- sizzling, in fact. He's sweet. If that car of his is anything to go by, he's rich too. And okay, he's something of an airhead, but he knows a lot about music. That should keep you guys on conversation long enough. He's obviously in love with you-"

"Not to mention, he's about the same age as my daughter. And love? Gwen, are you serious? _Love?_ I'm almost thirty-six."

"See? Still young."

"Compared to you, and to him, I'm a dinosaur."

"So? Maybe he's older than he looks. The way he wanders around, he's definitely not in college."

"Great. So now I'm being stalked by a dropout?" Caroline throws up her hands. "I'm sorry, Gwen. But none of this-"

"Give him a chance. So what if he's young, it's just going to be a fling," Gwen rolls her eyes. "I told you the guy has no concept of permanency. You deserve some fun."

"Gwen-"

"Mom."

"This is-"

"Mom. Grow up. Give yourself a break. There's no way for any heartbreak to be involved in this relationship; it's just one of those physical attraction things. You are _so_ warm for his form-"

"Gwen!"

"I was watching in the food court. I could see it. Clearly." She glanced at her watch. "Look, I've gotta go. If he comes, let him in. And if he asks you out, go for it."

* * *

He came, and despite her inner wisdom, she lets him in. This time, he doesn't even pretend to look at the attic, preferring to lean against the wall and look at her instead, the ever-present grin on his face.

"What?" She finally asks.

"Are you doing anything Friday night?"

And again, she ignored inner wisdom and followed her daughters' suggestions.

* * *

"You look great, mom."

Caroline closed her eyes in disbelief.

"No, really."

"I have greys in my hair," she stated, closing her eyes. "I have greys in my hair, I have wrinkles. I'm going out with a guy who can't be any older than twenty. Please tell me why I listened to you."

"You're madly in love with him?"

Caroline sighed.

"Mom, you could be. I have this feeling-"

"You and your feelings-"

"Hey! No insulting my gut instincts," Gwen pushed her down the hallway. "Now go there and drool over your date. I'm sure he'll be the most edible thing at that restaurant today."

She turned out to be right, of course.

* * *

He took a detour while driving her back, pulling off the road for a while. Miraculously, the car wasn't even scratched.

"Full moon," He looked at the sky, barely reigning in his laughter. "Lovers' night and all that."

"And that's funny because?"

"Oh, my sister," he grinned. "She can't _stand_ any poems like that. I remember this one time, I was reading this poem out to mom, something about ardor and moonlight and true love. She heard it, tackled me and threw the book into the fire. Mom got on my case about teasing her, and got on her case about attacking me," he smiled at her. "Yeah, we're a crazy family."

"And your father?"

"Absent. Well, not entirely. But his wife can't stand me; she's absolutely detested me since I killed her little pet when I was a kid. Daddy-O keeps his distance, but my job forces me to interact with him. He's all right, sometimes."

"You killed her pet? What was it, a chihuahua?"

"No. Python."

"_Python?"_

"I told you it was a crazy family."

"But a _python?"_

"Not really normal, is it?" He glanced up at the sky. "But can we talk about something else? Like how beautiful you look tonight, for starters?"

"Are you always this cheesy?"

"Hey, it usually works."

The way he looked at that point, dazzling grin and velvet tux, a lot of women would accept any sort of cheesiness to get introduced to him, so she gave him the benefit of the doubt.

"Can we get home? I'm worried about Gwen." She pointedly drove in the fact she had a daughter around his age.

"Sure."

* * *

"Gwen?" Caroline called out. "Gwen, are you in ther-"

A note, stuck to the fridge and underlined with red marker, caught her eye.

"What does it say?" Apollo asked from behind her.

"She's gone to Lindas' house. Her friends'," She added. "At this time of the night?"

She heard Apollo mutter something, but the words indecipherable. It didn't even sound like English.

"I'm guessing this is something to do with you," Caroline pulled the note off the fridge. "She isn't usually that anxious to get out of the house."

"Don't blame me for everything," he protested. "Gwen's a big girl. She probably gets mood swings, or something."

"Expert on girls, aren't we?" Caroline started walking to the bedroom; the dress was killing her.

"I try to be. My sister says I'll never succeed," he paused. "Well, except in the case of sex-starved maniacs. Her words, not mine."

"She sounds like someone I'd like to meet," Caroline decided, lips twitching. "She's not much like you, I'm guessing."

"She'd kill you for just suggesting that," He helped her remove her coat. "We're polar opposites. Day and night. Sun and moon. Civilization and wilderness."

"Poetic, aren't we?"

"I try. Chicks dig the artists," he grinned. "So, how was your date?"

"All right. Or it would have been if I hadn't been looking over my shoulder every couple of seconds praying nobody I knew was in there seeing me with a kid. I'm sorry, Apollo. You're really too young for me, it'd be awkward," she sat on the bed. "I really appreciate everything and I'm sorry for wasting your time but I really think you ought to go now. You know the way, I assume."

He looked at her, smiled and bent down to kiss her. She let him, rolling her eyes. Later, she decided she should have remembered what his touch had felt like at the food court. That might have made her exercise some caution.

* * *

"Whoa." Gwen said, stepping into the bedroom.

"Don't. Say. A word."

"He's a very fast worker," Gwen decided, dumping her bag on the ground. "So what was it like, having sex with an eighteen-year old?"

"We didn't, we just kissed!" Caroline slammed back into the bed.

"Yeah, that's why your clothes are like that."

"And maybe groped a little, but we didn't-" she blinked. "I cannot believe I'm having this conversation with my daughter."

"Trust me, I've known about the birds and the bees for a while now."

"My daughter, I just said that to my daughter," she shook her head. "That guy is bad news."

"I notice you didn't say kid. I also notice the 'we'"

"Notice my misery."

"Shucks, mom. Your boyfriend's hot," Gwen grinned. "You going out with him again?"

* * *

"You can go. I told you to go. Yesterday. This is not going to work-" Caroline went on the monologue before opening the door fully. "I told you it was- argh! And no, Gwens' approval doesn't mean anything here. Just-"

"Mrs Fletcher?"

She opened her eyes to see her next door neighbor peering anxiously at her. Sarah Gelt was attired in her customary skirt and blouse, and carrying a batch of pink coupons.

"Sorry." Caroline muttered, mortified.

"We're selling coupons, for charity." Sarah Gelt said cautiously. "It's for the good of the community, will you buy some?"

"Sure," Caroline seized at the chance to make amends. "I'll take two. What's it about?"

"We're funding the police against pedophiles." Sarah Gelt shuddered involuntarily. "Do you know that there are men abusing little girls? And even some women- they, they make moves on boys young enough to be their sons-"

This was not happening. No way.

"Such monsters deserve to be locked up in some hole far away from decent people. Don't you think so, Mrs. Fletcher?... Mrs Fletcher?"

Caroline had thrust her coupons back into the womans' hand, and was now glaring at a blond figure near a red convertible parked right across from her house, who was obviously doubling over with laughter.

"Mrs. Fletcher!" Sarah Gelt exclaimed as Caroline slammed the door on her face.

"It's _Miss,_ dammit!"

* * *

"How did you get in?" She asked him.

"Gwen," he waved a familiar key in her face. "She told me where the spare key was hidden."

"And now my daughter is a traitor," Caroline sat down on the kitchen chair. "Thanks a lot."

"She's smart," he corrected. "And you owe me a date-"

"I don't-"

"You promised yesterday."

"I was under duress," Carolines' face pinked slightly at the memory. "It was blackmail."

"Blackmail?"

"Okay, more like bribery," she agreed. "Apollo, I told you already. No."

"How about a kiss instead?"

"No!"

"Oh come on-"

"I refuse to be a pedophile."

"Last time I checked, I was trying to seduce you, not the other way round. You're not the pedophile, I'm the geriatrophile."

"That isn't even a word."

"So? Most of English is just Latin with prefixes and suffixes."

"Apollo-"

"Look, I really like you. I love you, in fact. Cupids' arrow has found its' mark," he was looking directly into her eyes, notching things up a few points in his favor. "If you don't go out with me, I am going to start stalking you. Believe me, I can be persistent."

"Are you threatening me?"

"I want to be a geriatrophile," he announced. "It's my current ambition."

"Good grief."

"Please?"

It was the eyes, the smile. And also the biceps clearly revealed by his sleeveless T-shirt.

"Just make sure the police arrests you, and not me."

In celebration, he kissed her. She was dead to the world for a while after that.

* * *

**End Note:**On regaining access to the Internet, I decided to check up on something I had doubts on. Apparently, I messed up my myths; the Oracle of Delphi belonged to Gaea, not Hera. The Python, though, _was_hers. Glad to see I wasn't completely wrong.

**Acknowledgements and Inspirations:**My thanks to RachelleMarie, the Apollo/OC trailblazer on the site, and her story for stopping me from making Apollo too serious. Inspirations include three songs; Mar Jaawa (which is Hindi), You make me wanna (Blue) and Full Moon (The Black Ghosts) and a book, _Don't tell Laura. _I do not remember the authors name, and I didn't like the book all that much, but it contributed to the ideas.

And as usual, try leaving a thought.


	2. Stargazing

**Authors' Note:** I claimed I wouldn't publish anything PJO 'till I finish reading Last Olympian. Since my contrariness is by no means limited by the fact that being contrary to the self is pointless, here's part two of Sunlit Days. Before I've manage to as much as lay my eyes on a copy of TLO.

Not that it matters, anyway. I know pretty much the entire story already. Dammit.

* * *

**Part Two**

_**Stargazing**_

* * *

Caroline frowned in concentration, strumming a few starting chords. It wasn't coming out well- she was possibly distracted by baby-blonde hair and kisses which made her toes curl. Nevertheless, she persevered. Gwen had requested a song (ordered for it, really) on the momentous event of her dating again, and all protests to the contrary had fallen on deaf ears. It was a major turning point, she insisted, and therefore definitely needed a song to mark it so.

So on her off day, she'd been shoved onto the couch, and handed her guitar and firm instructions. Gwen was in the kitchen, humming one of the half-dozen tunes she'd composed over the years.

Caroline sighed and put down the guitar. She had maybe ten minutes before her daughter came in demanding why she wasn't making music, and she didn't seem to get that she could only make music from, …well, if not the soul, then somewhere damn near it. As _nice_ (that probably wasn't the right word, but she couldn't think of anything else at the moment) as Apollo was, he wasn't momentous. Not the way Gwen had been. A teenager with a weird name and horrible poetry skills (she shuddered at the memory) could hardly compare to the mewling little thing who'd come barging into her life and instantly altered it, mostly for the worse.

She shook off the memory. That was long ago, and this was now, where she could safely say her daughter was the most important thing in her life, despite all the nudges she got from her in his direction.

"Caroline!"

Speak of the devil.

He grinned (when did he not?) and stalked over, dropping down close to her on the couch. She gave him a look.

"Don't you have school?" she wondered.

He looked mildly offended.

"Oh, all right. College then. Is it good to be missing so many classes of your freshman year?"

"Say whatever you want, sweetheart, but you're not going to get rid of me that easily." He flashed her a blinding smile.

"Good point. I forgot that I'm dating an infant because he threatened to stalk me if I didn't."

"You don't have to make it sound like you were _forced_ or anything," he pointed out. "You could have always dumped me and got a restraining order. Not that it'd have helped, but you didn't."

"Was that a suggestion?"

He grinned again, unperturbed by her tone.

"It isn't easy, buddy. One of my colleagues asked me yesterday if I was seeing someone. I nearly choked on my coffee," she raised her voice so Gwen could hear it clearly (if she wasn't eavesdropping, Caroline had been misjudging her for the past seventeen years) "How would you tell someone you're going out with a guy half your age?"

"The same way you tell them anything else?"

"It's called common sense, or occasionally responsibility. You should try it sometime."

He grinned (again). All a toothpaste company had to do was follow him around for a couple of days to get stellar ad material.

"'Common sense is but a set of prejudices acquired by a person by the age of eighteen;' Mark Twain," Gwen poked her head in, mirroring his grin. "Or was it Charles Dickens? I never could tell theirs apart."

"Aren't you supposed to be cooking?"

"Aren't you supposed to be composing?" she retorted. "But I'll give you a reprieve if you're going out with him now."

Caroline made a face.

"Don't mind her, she likes you," Gwen said, turning to Apollo and speaking in a (there was no other word for it) parental tone. "She's just being difficult."

He returned her long-suffering look, "I know."

"You wouldn't believe how stubborn she is."

"I think I'm getting a firsthand demonstration." he told her.

"And she'll never back down until she's cornered. And she argues even then, sometimes."

"Tell me about it. Do you think I could kiss her into her senses?"

"Certainly worth a try," Gwen said gravely. "If you want me to clear out, you just have to say the word."

"All right _children_," Caroline interjected, emphasizing the last word. "That would be enough. I am sitting here, you know. In hearing range."

"So I can kiss you senseless?"

"No. And I thought you were trying to kiss me _into_ my senses."

"Can I do that, then?"

"Gwen, if all teenage guys are like this, I don't want you dating till you're thirty."

"Or maybe I'll just go out with an older guy," Gwen mused. "It'll even things out."

Caroline groaned as they grinned. Her guitar lay forgotten.

* * *

"Gwen tells me you're quite the composer," he told her an hour later as they were walked down to her house.

Caroline dropped her gaze from the skies to study him. He instantly took over the nonchalant peruse of near-empty skies, lips twitching. Caroline had a sudden urge to either strangle him or jump on him; possibly both at the same time. He instantly gave her a very wicked look, like he'd known exactly what she'd been thinking.

All right, she could settle for just the strangling.

"Gwen can exaggerate." She told him, voice as dry as she could make it.

"Not this time," he said, voice softer than it usually was. Before she could reply, he changed the topics with a grin, looking back to the skies. "It used to be so beautiful. My sister hates how all her precious constellations just vanished. People can be so careless."

"What on earth are you talking about?"

"The night skies," he said simply. "Not the pale thing you see here and now, darkness with spots of twinkling lights. The stars, the galaxies, the constellations, literally so numerous they are impossible to count. Not just black and white, but blue and pink and silver and patterns."

Caroline, who hadn't been expecting anything more than a flippant comment or some other interesting anecdote, had no idea how to respond to that.

"When we were children, our mother used to sit out with us at night," he continued in the same tone, "Before we even met our father. She used to point out the skies and whisper to us about way she talked, you'd have thought he _was_ the skies," his demeanor shifted again, and he added with a grin, "Kinda not true, but there you have it."

Caroline blinked, and waited. The mercurial mood swings were slightly disturbing, altering her perceptions of him by the moment. She also couldn't make out half the things he was saying. Theirs must have been one very weird family.

He waited, looking at her quizzically, as if he were expecting something. Caroline shook out of her reverie.

"I… see."

Better than silence, she supposed, but he didn't stop looking at her. She'd been too distracted by the shade of his eyes before to notice how piercing they could be, another item to the list of the unexpected.

"Your family?" she asked weakly.

He nodded, satisfied. She drew a breath again when his gaze broke.

"What about them?"

"About them, about me," he shrugged, back to his normal self. "We're as unusual as can be."

All traces of dumbstruck wonder left her (very quickly) at that.

"No."

"I can't believe a fellow poet," he added, "Would ask me to…uh…"

"No. I told you I didn't want to hear any of those things again. It's literally scaring me off. And honestly, poet? What on earth were you thinking to rhyme it with, mow it?'

He grinned, teeth flashing brightly in the moonlight. "I can't believe my fellow poet, would want to leave me and go yet."

Caroline closed her eyes, praying fervently to whatever gods were around (she wasn't picky at this point) to please not let him _ever_ compose a poem for her.

"Too late, I'm afraid."

She must have said it out loud. "I mean it. No more poetry. Or the crap you think passes for poetry. I've never heard such rubbi-" She took time off to note how he looked a little hurt. "Okay, so maybe I've written worse in my day, but really, Apollo. Can we please leave off the poetry?"

"You mean we need to find other ways to occupy our time?"

"Yes. I mean," she realized her mistake at his expression, "Something platonic. I meant someth-"

_Damn it._

* * *

Caroline stormed into her house, throwing her jacket halfway across the room.

"Whatever happened?" Gwen asked, bewildered. Which is not to say her feet didn't deftly kick a hastily dropped paperback out of sight, well away from her open History paper.

Caroline gritted her teeth. "Gelt."

"Mom, you're not making any sense."

"She caught me and him- damn that woman! I'll give _her_ sin."

"Mom?"

"I wonder how she'll like it when those precious roses of hers go up in flames. Smelling of gasoline," Caroline raged on, "Or if that immaculate house of hers suddenly started harboring rats-"

"Obviously I'm not going to get anything out of you," Gwen decided, turning to Apollo, who was watching her mother with undisguised fascination. "What happened?"

"Your neighbor caught us kissing."

"Ah."

"Don't _'Ah'_. There's nothing to _'Ah'_ about," Caroline grumbled, "You can start thinking of travel vouchers to Timbuktu. Maybe they don't care much about pedophiles there."

"They don't. But they can't stand geriatrophiles," Apollo supplied. "They'd boot me out in an instant."

Caroline snorted, "Whatever made you think you were coming?"

He took the bait, leering at her. She blinked back, then sighed.

"This is all your fault," Caroline pointed an accusing finger at Gwen. "You should have discouraged me when you had the chance."

"Oops." Gwen commented with considerable lack of feeling.

"Timbuktu wouldn't work," Apollo continued, breaking the leer. "But I know this cute little pacific island where unions of all kind are revered and the natives make some really nice dishes. We could go there."

"Are they hospitable natives, or cannibalistic ones?" Gwen asked.

"Hospitable, of course. Treated me like a god; they weren't far off," he said gravely.

There were a few moments of silence where Gwen composed her snickers.

"I cannot believe you saddled me with him." Caroline said flatly.

"Oh, Mom."

"If that isn't arrogance, I don't know what is." Caroline looked pointedly at an utterly unperturbed Apollo, who shrugged.

"Everyone's arrogant, sweetheart. No exceptions. They just display it in different ways."

"_Sweetheart?"_

"Mom, lay off him," Gwen rolled her eyes. "At his age, people are meant to be obnoxious -Only a little. Sorry.- and _Apollo_ is a god, of sorts."

"Gwen." Caroline's voice suggested she'd suddenly gone insane.

"Not him. _Apollo._ Mythology. Greek god of the sun, music, healing, prophecy and a bunch of other things I can't remember right now," Gwen told her briskly. "It's not my fault you don't read anything."

"I'm an adult. Nobody forces me to read things."

"There you go," Gwen shook her head sadly. "Hopeless to the end."

"Whatever. Miss hopeless is going to bed- and before you ask, you're _not _coming along!"

"It's just the Gelt residues speaking," Apollo said confidently, retreating to the couch. "Two days, tops."

"Argh! _Men!_"

"You sound like my sister." Apollo said cheerfully.

She'd slammed her door before she could make sure of it, and anyway she'd probably imagined the sudden wrinkling of Gwens' features, the kind she got when a random thought suddenly struck her out of the blue and magnetically arranged mental jigsaw pieces around it.

* * *

Caroline felt little better about her new pedophile status in the morning. Sarah Gelt was known for her socializing, and she was pretty sure there would be an invisible "Halt, here goest eeeevil." (with special emphasis on the extra e's) stamp on her forehead today. There was nothing to do about it, though. She'd missed enough days because of her migraines. So it was going to be coffee, steeling of spine, and work.

She found Gwen hunched over a cup, her mind clearly elsewhere as she frowned in concentration.

"Earth to Gwen."

Gwen blinked, and looked at her oddly. Once in a while, she suspected she was harboring a future mad scientist. Or maybe more of a mad preperator of out-of-the-blue, insane and yet strangely sequential ideas which never amounted to anything. (Wasn't there a word for that sort of person?) Or it could be just-

"Don't tell me. I have a bad hair day, right?"

"N-no," Gwen shook her head violently. "Just thinking."

"Are you all right?" Caroline enquired methodically, used to the occasional mood swings.

Something clicked. _Philosopher._ That was it.

"Yeah. I think-" Gwen got up decisively. "Yes. I'm fine. It's just that my imagination is working overtime."

"Uh-huh." Caroline supplied, coming to the conclusion she wasn't talking to her.

"Maybe I just got a cold or something," Gwen said, still partly to herself. "Mrs. Gelt-"

All wandering thoughts vanished and Caroline groaned expressively at the name.

"-looked a little off this morning. Or it could just have been her expression," she added fairly.

Caroline groaned again. She needed more coffee. Now.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Gwen repeated, and then her face clouded over again. "Plagues! Argh! I can't believe I'm even considering this!"

Gwen had come up with a few unusual swear words, but this one was new. As was the distractedly furious expression on her face as she kissed her mother's cheek and ran off, ignoring all questions.

* * *

Caroline in the evening was considerably happier. Sarah Gelt was abed with a violent cold, and was currently more worried about sniffles than tattling. There was no migraine coming up, and nobody had questioned her about her love life. If it weren't for the sight of her daughter sprawled on the living room floor, hair in disarray with two very thick books wide open in front of her, the day would have been perfect.

"What are you doing?" she wondered out loud.

"Researching." Gwen's voice was curt as she scribbled something else onto her notepad. It looked like some sort of list.

"Researching what, exactly?" Gwen lived to research, but she'd never seen her so frustrated about it.

"I'm trying not to think about it."

"I don't see. Do you need help?" She normally wouldn't have gone near anything that thick, but she was concerned.

Gwen's denial was sudden and vehement. Caroline raised her eyebrows.

"I've got it covered," She added quickly. "Really, Mom. There's nothing to worry about."

"What's-"

"Mom." Her tone was final.

Caroline forced herself not to be nosy and went upstairs to wait it out. She'd know about it eventually, anyway.

* * *

Music never made itself.

This struck her as distinctly unfair. Wasn't it enough you had to go through years and years of practice before you were actually good at playing something? Did you also have to sit and stare aimlessly at the wall for hours at an end, blinking to pass away the time while your mind stubbornly refused to cooperate? Finally jotting down a few agonizingly drawn notes which when reviewed made you wrinkle your nose and berate yourself for wasting your time?

She considered smashing her guitar to the ground, albeit only vaguely seriously.

She sighed and strummed again, her determination comparable only to the time when she was twenty-one and had not yet realized that two bodies couldn't sustain themselves out of air, or that artisting was hardly a reliable way to survive.

A few discordant notes rang in the air. She gave up and went back downstairs, where Gwen hadn't moved from her position prostrate on the ground.

"Gw-"

"Not now. Working. Go away."

"Yo-"

"And don't return, not for a while."

"Bu-"

"Preferably a lon-"

"Gwenyth Mariah Fletcher, stop interrupting me and listen!"

Gwen looked up, surprised, but she managed a meek (ish) "Yes, Mum?"

"What on earth is going on?"

"It's nothing," Gwen replied, her face falling. "I'm just being overanalytical and overimaginative. Probably overly idiotic as well, but I'm sure it's a phase. It'll pass and-"

"Now. Tell me."

"I can't! It's- god, Mom! It's like I've gone crazy and-"

"All the more reason you have to talk to me," Caroline seated herself firmly on the ground, glancing at he books. It looked vaugely like something along the lines of legend/myth/folklore with more than the required quota of unpronounceable names. Or maybe it was just her dyslexia mixing up the syllables. Who knew? "I'm worried, Gwenny."

Gwen looked miserable, but her lips showed no signs of motion. Caroline waited it out. After long moments, Gwen mirrored her mother's position, facing across from her.

"Have you ever had the feeling things are not what they seem?"

"Occasionally. In your wardrobe."

Gwen went still, then moaned, "Oh no, not again."

"They looked like socks. But then I found the fungus. Of course, I thought it was just soft wool at the time. Ugly shade, but still," Caroline shook her head at the memory. "That was the first positive indication I ever had about your insanity. 'Till then I had you pegged down as a completely normal child."

"That was years ago. And still don't get what all the fuss is about; I was cultivating life on the basis of scientific interest. And it's not like the mold messes up the carpet or anything. Bringing a puppy home would have been a lot more trouble, but I wouldn't be branded insane for it. People can be so- " her face suddenly broke out in a smile. "Were you trying to distract me?"

"Guilty," Caroline admitted. "It makes no sense because I just convinced you to tell me what was bothering you, but there you go."

"I love you Mom. It's corny and it's cheesy, but you know it, right?"

"Just a little. I've had my suspicions." Caroline was sure her voice wavered a little, and that there was an oddly warm spot in the vicinity of her chest.

"There's someone I've met," Gwen shifted moods abruptly, looking at her with oddly piercing intensity. "I think he's more than he appears to be. I think I might just know what that 'more than' is. And I think the idea is childish, impossible, and frankly disturbing."

Caroline paled. "Please don't tell me this is the older boyfriend you were threatening me with."

"Mom, that was a joke," Gwen told her. "And there's no romance involved, at least not on my part."

"All right. And?"

"And…" Gwen trailed off, looking pensive again. "And I need to make sure. I need to know. And in the meantime-" she broke off again, a little longer this time. "Ther's nothing I can do. Because if I'm wrong there's no point in doing anything, and if I'm right, there's even less point in it."

"I…see. And you feel this need to do something because?"

"Because." Gwen shrugged, then rubbed her face. "I sound like a lunatic."

Caroline didn't say anything.

"Can't you _pretend_ to contradict me?"

"But it makes so much sense!"

"Get going, will you? You're boyfriend's probably waiting outside," she glanced at her notes. "Funny how he always seems to know when you're free."

* * *

"You're stalking me." It was a statement of fact.

"No way!" he grinned. "I'm just drawn to you. It's destiny. Fate. Kismet."

"Oh, own up." Caroline said.

"Maybe a little," He admitted, opening her side of the car door. "I don't like being away from you."

She shot him an exasperated glare. "I don't know what sort of girls you've been hitting on your entire life, but that crap is not going to work with me."

"I have other skills."

"A sentence unlaced with innuendo would be nice too."

"What do you prefer, innuendo or poetry?" he asked conversationally.

Caroline didn't even have to think about that one. "Innuendo."

He nodded, pleased with himself. "I knew you'd come around."

"Seduced while running away from bad poetry. Now why does that sound so …wrong?" Caroline mused. "And before I forget to ask, where are we going?"

"To look at the stars."

She gave him a look. It felt like she was giving out looks all the time now.

"Because the stars must be seen." He explained, explaining nothing.

"You're crazy too, aren't you?"

"So's everyone interesting."

"You might have a point," Caroline conceded. "I think your speedometer is broken, by the way."

"Uh-huh?"

"It's showing an impossibly high speed, and where are all the streetlights?"

"You're not afraid I'm speeding?"

"Apollo, no car can go that fast. Stop trying to scare me- that's a broken speedometer. A trick one, more like. Do you think you're driving a space shuttle?"

He smiled. It wasn't one of the blinding grins, it was one of those knowing quirks of the lips. It unsettled her even more than the grins, and that was saying a lot.

"I wonder what Gwen would make of it."

"She'd try to help you in your pathetic attempts to scare me. I've seen it all," Caroline told him dispassionately. "Are we stopping?"

He turned off the engine, leaped out and opened her door for her. She rolled her eyes and got out to what looked like a forest.

"Where are we?" she asked after a few moments, slightly unnerved.

"Just somewhere," Apollo shrugged. "I took a shortcut."

The road they'd been on was pretty small, now that she looked at it. A wispy little thing lost amidst trees. Funny how little she'd noticed; the ride couldn't have been longer than-

She blinked. They'd been driving for about an hour, according to her watch.

"Where are we?" Caroline asked again, even more unnerved.

"Timbuktu." He grinned, cheerfully this time. She was glad for it. She somehow suspected she'd feel a lot less better if it had been one of the smiles.

"Where?" her tone was a little sharp.

"We're still in the US," he conceded, grabbing her hand. The sudden warmth was welcome. "Come on."

And he dragged her into the woods.

* * *

Sometime of brambles and thickets later, she let herself be led (grumpily) into some sort of stream.

"All we have to do is follow this until we reach the waterfall," Apollo said enthusiastically. He hadn't even broken out into sweat. "The view's brilliant."

"My feet are killing me." Caroline replied. There were also a lot of questions her mind was posing, but she'd decided to ignore them for the time being. She'd get out of this fine; whatever his faults, she was sure Apollo wasn't cruel, or a closet murderer.

The first thing she saw was three stars. Bright, distinctive and arranged in a crooked line. Then she saw the rest of the sky.

She looked, barely aware she was being pulled down onto some sort of moss-covered rock, hardly noticing when she lay down so as to see the stars without craning her neck.

Stars. And galaxies and constellations and strange spirals. Overlapping, innumerable. Pink and white and grey and blue. And with an unshakable feeling of something so vast, so intangible, and still so real that she felt like a speck of dust on a slightly bigger speck.

And it was all there, always had been, over her head. How could she not have noticed?

"Well?" She must have stared for quite a while before he spoke.

"Wow." she managed.

"Some stars are grouped together, taken as an image," he said gently, almost to himself, "Constellations. Sketchings of the gods, patterns in the sky. For each of them, there's a story."

She dragged her eyes away from the sight and turned her head to face him. He was looking at her, that odd smile back on his face. For a moment, she swore her eyes shifted in her brain, because there was something about the stars and about his face, that was so alike and still poles apart…

"You're… not what I expected." She told him.

"I do that once in a while."

And then he kissed her. It was a featherlight, so soft it barely brushed her lips. Tender rather than fervent groping she'd learnt to associate with him. Maybe that was why she didn't even try to deny that the feelings developed, over teasing and doubt and laughter and interruptions and complaints and brambles and stars, were a lot stronger than anything that was supposed to be found in a fling.

* * *

**End Note:** Three/Four shot then, definitely not a twoshot. I wanted this chapter to be longer, but this feels like the right time to end it… especially considering I had to start a whole new HP story (a saga too, what the hell was I thinking?) to bridge the gap between the first part of this chapter and the last. I admit I don't think this was as good as the first chapter, but stories are always easiest to write with fresh inspiration; it's continuing that's a lot harder. So the possibility of waiting till I manage to coherently drag up Gwen's conclusions is…I don't think I can take it. And besides, four thousand words is fairly acceptable, even for this format. I hope. Also, thanks to the MSWord spellcheck for making this readable. Typos come by the dozens when you're still typing at near 0300 hours, and then there are all the double-consonant/ei-ie words I mess up…

Before anyone asks, Caroline is not a half-blood. Dyslexic, yay. Demigod, nay.


End file.
